


Cotard Syndrome (Walking Corpse Syndrome)

by TheWinterSldier



Series: The Many Illnesses of Bucky Barnes [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anorexia, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky doesn't think he needs to eat, Bucky thinks he's dead, But he's trying, Cotard Syndrome, Eating Disorder, Everyone is precious, Implied abusive attitudes in the prison system, M/M, Medication, Starvation, Steve and Bucky don't know what boundaries are, Steve doesn't know how to handle this, Walking Corpse Syndrome, bucky has a lot of issues, explanation of Bucky's fall, this is just one of them, well it only focused mainly on one of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWinterSldier/pseuds/TheWinterSldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 1 of "The Many Illnesses of Bucky Barnes" series.</p><p>“It’s a mental illness in which the affected person holds the delusional belief that they’re already dead, don’t exist, are putrefying, or have lost their blood or internal organs. Over half of Cotard patients indicate the denial of self-existence.”</p><p>Bucky thinks he's dead. This is worrying enough for Steve. But because he thinks he's dead, Bucky won't eat. He doesn't think he needs to. </p><p>That's what's scaring Steve the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Acquittal and Diagnosis

Bucky couldn't stay on the run forever. When Steve found him, he looked barely alive.

Steve practically begged Bucky to come back with him and, after Steve convinced Bucky to turn himself in with the promise that he would be okay, Bucky had been kept in a small cell, alone, for the months leading up to the trial and throughout it.

Steve hadn’t even been allowed to visit him, and that had pissed him off so much more than anyone had expected. Anyone else except Sam, of course. Sam could see how much it was eating Steve up knowing that Bucky was alone, locked up. Everyone else had assumed that Steve would respect the court’s decision to isolate Bucky for ‘everyone’s safety’. But no, Steve had argued until he was blue in the face. It had shocked everyone present, besides Sam, but it had made no difference to the decision made.

It also hadn’t helped that the inside informant Sam had managed to get on their side had told them that Bucky had been force-fed several times during his stay in the maximum security prison to stop him from starving to death. Bucky’s serum helped him survive a lot, but there’s only so much malnourishment even a super soldier’s body can take before it gives out and dies. The prison staff had kept Bucky alive, but only barely. They had only put in as much effort as they needed to in order to ensure a prisoner didn’t die in their care. As long as Bucky was still breathing, they didn’t really care. And that pissed Steve off so much, he had already gotten the lawyer to agree to represent Bucky again so that once all this was over, Steve could sue the prison for neglecting Bucky.

The day they had seen Bucky take the stand was engraved in everybody present’s mind. He had been kept out of the court for so long, left in his cell, with his lawyer (courtesy of Stark) representing him. That had been the plan. The lawyer, Matt Murdock, would represent him and Bucky didn’t have to be anywhere near the court at any time. He wouldn’t have to talk about everything that had happened to him during his time with the Soviets and HYDRA in front of a large group of people. The only people he would have to tell was Murdock. It had taken a while for Bucky to say more than two words with the lawyer, so his case had been mostly built on what was in the file Natasha had managed to get from Kiev up until then.

But the opposing lawyer kept arguing that Bucky should take the stand and tell the court himself why he had committed these atrocious crimes against humanity instead of doing so through Murdock. He said that if Barnes was really sorry for what he did, and he really didn't want to do any of it, he could at least have the decency to say it to them in person. Steve was so close to launching across the court and ripping the guy's throat out. Matt had reluctantly agreed to allow Bucky to take the stand.

He was so pale and there were dark circled under his eyes. His hair had been washed and his face shaved, but Murdock had told Steve that he had requested Bucky being cleaned and groomed before court, so he hadn’t been like that before. Matt’s associate, Foggy, told them that Bucky had looked awful before they had demanded he was cleaned up. He had a full beard, his hair looked like it hadn't been washed in months and he smelled like he hadn’t bathed in the same amount of time. But despite their best efforts, Bucky didn’t look healthy by the time he got to the stand. Steve had to force himself to stay in his seat, digging his nails into his palm to ground himself. If he didn’t, he would have bolted across the room to drag Bucky into him for a hug. He would have hissed at anyone who came near Bucky, and he would have pulled him out of the courthouse and to his bed to wrap Bucky in a blanket and keep him safe.

He was thin too, that was the thing that concerned Steve the most. The suit Matt had bought for him hung off his frame, and he reminded Steve of starving villagers they had come across in the war, ones that looked like they wouldn’t survive the week. On his way up to the stand, Bucky had stumbled slightly and squeezed his eyes shut, his face pinched in pain. Foggy had hurried over to him then and helped Bucky walk the last few feet to the stand, whispering words of encouragement to him the whole way there. Steve really liked Foggy and Matt, and he already planned to pay them at least double their agreed fee, and send them some fruit baskets.

As soon as the verdict was announced, Steve had ran up to hug Bucky, then immediately took him home. They had to leave the courthouse through the back exit to avoid the crowds of reporters, protestors and supporters alike. Foggy and Matt left through the front to give the verdict and make sure all the attention was on them, and the crowds wouldn’t spot Steve and Bucky leaving out of the back and into a – surprisingly inconspicuous- car sent by Stark.

So much of the public had already heard so much of the trial through someone leaking information, and many people had condemned Bucky as a traitor of the country, a terrorist, some even going as far as he say he was the devil. But others were more understanding, they remembered Bucky Barnes as an American hero, and they believed that what happened to him and what he was forced to do didn’t change that. Bucky was a prisoner of war, the longest-suffering prisoner of war in history. They were very vocal about their support, and that’s one of the only things that stopped Steve from wanting to tear this country apart in a blind rage.

* * *

The first week of having Bucky home, he hadn’t spoken. He didn’t seem particularly happy about his newfound freedom, but he didn’t seem upset either. It had been a real struggle to get Bucky to eat, but because he hadn’t been eating properly for so long, Bucky couldn’t eat much without throwing up. And he only ever ate when Steve reminded him consistently, pestering him almost constantly until Bucky forced himself to at least take a few bites of a sandwich.

He still didn’t speak, and he barely moved unless Steve prompted him. Steve had to bathe him, shave him, change his clothes and prompt him to lie down in bed. On the plus side, Bucky actually did sleep, even if it was only for an hour or so a night and it was always interrupted by a blood-chilling scream tearing free from Bucky’s throat. Steve didn’t mind that he himself couldn’t sleep much, it was worth it to get to take care of Bucky and just have him beside him in his—no,  _their_ —bed.

After just a few weeks, Steve knew something was very wrong with Bucky. He muttered a lot, barely ever spoke above a whisper, but Steve managed to catch a few words and from what he could gather… Bucky thought he was dead...

He would say things like “ _Why eat? Already dead.”_  Or “ _Dead people don’t eat.”_   Or " _Pills don't work on dead brains"._ Steve had tried to tell him several times that he wasn’t dead, but Bucky just shook his head and went silent. After speaking to Sam about it, completely at a loss for what else to do, Steve found himself in front of a therapist's office that Sam had referred him to.

The therapist agreed to meet with Bucky and see what he could do, and Steve managed to convince Bucky that this would be good for him. He started to get the impression that Bucky was getting annoyed with him always pestering him, but Steve couldn’t find it within himself to be sorry. Bucky would thank him for this one day, when he was healthy again and in his right mind. He would thank Steve for keeping him alive and getting him to a place where he could be happy again. Sam had warned Steve several times that there was no guarantee that Bucky would ever be the same person he was all those years ago. Steve was okay with that. He was still Bucky, no matter how different he may be. He was still his best friend, and Steve still loved him. Sam also warned him that Bucky may never function like a  _person_  again. That he might never know how to act or think for himself again. All the electricity Bucky had suffered being shocked through his brain may have caused irreversible brain damage. There was no way of knowing yet, though, since Bucky refused to let anyone who looked even remotely medical near him. He would scream and struggle and attack the professional.

The therapist agreed to make a home visit, so that Bucky could be in a familiar and comfortable place for their first meeting. For that first meeting, Steve had been present, and he was a little concerned Bucky had broken some bones in Steve's hand, he had gripped it so tight. It was a false alarm, though, and eventually Bucky became comfortable enough with the doctor to have his meetings with him without Steve having to be there. That was when the doctor really started trying to get to the bottom of Bucky’s aversion to eating and other forms of self-care.

* * *

“Cotard Syndrome.” Steve said with a sigh, then took a sip of his coffee. He was sat with Sam in a cheap little café, somewhere no one recognised them and therefore everyone left them alone.

“I’ve dealt with traumas for several years now, and I’ve heard a lot of different syndromes and conditions caused by brain damage and/or psychological trauma… But I’ve never heard of Cotard Syndrome. Care to elaborate?” Sam’s voice was low and calm, staying steady despite the slight tremble in Steve’s. He was great that way. No matter what was going on around them, Sam was always the calm one. People assumed Steve was the most level-headed, but they couldn’t be more wrong.

“It’s a mental illness in which the affected person holds the delusional belief that they’re already dead, don’t exist, are putrefying, or have lost their blood or internal organs. Over half of Cotard patients indicate the denial of self-existence.” Even as he spoke, Steve could hear that his voice sounded flat. His words were rehearsed. He had read them several times since the doctor had first explained it to him, had memorised the definition so that he could recite it to Bucky whenever he needed to, and so that he could explain it quickly and easily to others.

Sam clearly noticed the tone, and he nodded a little in understanding. “So that’s why he isn’t eating? He thinks there’s no point because he’s already dead? But for some reason still able to move, walk and talk?”

After a brief nod, Steve continued. “The doctor tried asking him about that, as a way to confront faulty cognition. But Bucky just shrugged and said something about being a zombie or a ghost…”

Steve had asked for advice, but all Sam could offer him was to keep getting Bucky to see the therapist, follow the therapist's suggestions, and just be there for Bucky ready to remind him that he was alive whenever he could.

* * *

“I’m alive…” Bucky muttered, staring up at the ceiling with Steve laid beside him in their bed.

It hadn’t really occurred to Steve that it could be seen as weird for him and Bucky to share a bed until Stark had questioned it a month ago, but Steve still couldn’t bring himself to break that habit. He wanted to be as close to Bucky as possible. He told himself it was so that he could help Bucky with his nightmares as soon as they happened, but Steve knew he was lying to himself. It was because after so many years of being apart from Bucky, he couldn’t stand the idea of being away from him again.

“Yeah, Buck. You’re alive.” Steve assured him, then turned on his side so he could watch Bucky’s face.

The main light in the room had been off for several hours now, but neither of them could sleep. Steve had asked about how Bucky’s meeting with his therapist went today, and they had been talking on and off since then, and a few hours ago they had turned the bedside lamps beside each of them on.

The low light caused shadows to cast over Bucky’s face. He was still too pale and thin, and the dark circles seemed even more prominent in this lighting. The sight made Steve feel useless. He had promised to take care of Bucky and get him healthy again, but it had been months and Bucky looked just has sick as he had when he took the stand in a few months ago. Nothing he did seemed to make a difference, and now Bucky was experiencing dizzy spells too, probably because of the malnourishment. Bucky suffered them in prison, but not as regularly as he did now.

Sam had said that that was probably because in the prison when they force-fed him, they put an IV in his hand and sent pure nutrients into his bloodstream. Steve couldn’t do that to Bucky. He hated needles, and regardless, Steve wouldn’t even know how to go about getting the equipment and know-how to feed Bucky through an IV. He had tried getting the most nutrient filled food possible, but it hadn’t made a difference. He had tried to make him feel more relaxed here, but Bucky was still skittish. He had tried to help him sleep, make him feel safe, but Bucky still woke up screaming not long after his eyes closed.

“I’m alive…”

One of the things the therapist had suggested was repeating that statement over and over, until Bucky started to believe it. Bucky had rolled his eyes at that, but the therapist assured him that there was a lot of good in repeating something until it changed your mindset. And the therapist had asked Steve to assure Bucky that he was right, he was alive, whenever he heard Bucky say that phrase or something else to the same affect.

“Yes you are…” Steve wanted to touch Bucky, to reassure himself of the same thing. That Bucky was alive and really  _here._  But touching Bucky was risky. If Bucky didn’t know it was coming, it could go one of two ways.

Number one. Bucky’s mind would automatically tell him he was in danger, and he would lash out. Bucky’s mind would black out and he wouldn’t recognise that it was Steve, that he wasn’t going to hurt Bucky, and Bucky was safe. He would attack Steve until he realised who Steve was. Steve would never fight back, he would only defend himself as much as he could without hurting Bucky, and the whole time he would be talking to him, trying to get Bucky to recognise him. Bucky would then burst into tears and apologise over and over again, usually while he was still on top of Steve, and Steve would wrap his arms tight around him and hold him close. He would assure Bucky was it was okay, he knew Bucky didn’t mean to, it’s not Bucky’s fault.

Number two. Bucky’s mind would automatically tell him he was in danger, but from a superior. He would assume he did something wrong and he was about to be punished. Either he would flinch, his muscles would tense, and he would wait for the blows he thought were coming, or he would panic. He would start crying and curl in on himself, apologising over and over for whatever he thought he had done wrong. He would promise to be better, promise he would always follow orders better from now on. He would wrap his arms around his head to protect his face and head, and he would curl his knees up to his chest to make himself look as small as possible.

Steve could handle Bucky attacking him. He just saw that as Bucky’s will to survive shining through, and that was a good thing. It meant, despite everything, Bucky wanted to  _live_. Steve could handle a black eye and a few cracked ribs in exchange for knowing that Bucky’s will to live was still in there.

Number two was the most painful, because there was nothing Steve could do. At least while he was being attacked he could call out his name and try to get Bucky to recognise him. He could be active, block the punches, backstep, duck, block the punches, spin, dive. He could grab Bucky’s arm, try and stop him from throwing another punch.

But when Bucky was so terrified that  _Steve_ was going to hurt him, Steve was powerless to help. If he tried to touch Bucky, pull him into a hug, reassure him that he was safe, all it got him was more sobbing and more terrified screaming. Steve was pretty sure his neighbours thought he was torturing Bucky, because he often got strange looks when he left his apartment. But he didn’t care about that. He knew he was trying to help Bucky, and the only person he cared about thinking the same way was Bucky. He wanted nothing more than to know that Bucky knew Steve was trying to help him.

So Steve didn’t touch Bucky unless he asked first, or unless he moved slowly and Bucky was looking right at him when he did it, and Bucky was tracking the movement of Steve’s hand. Because if his eyes weren’t following the movement, Bucky may have dissociated. So even if Bucky was looking right at him, that doesn’t mean he’s  _seeing_  him.

“Can you prove it?” Bucky whispered.

He was back to whispering. That meant he was uncomfortable or scared. He muttered most of the time now, but Steve will admit the whispering is down to a rarity now. That meant that Bucky was making  _some_  progress, even if this moment was a slight step back. But that was okay, whispering sometimes was okay. As long as it didn’t go back to all the time.

But, back to the subject at hand. “Prove it? How?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, and his pouted as though he was putting a lot of effort into figuring out how to answer that. He had the same expression back in school when they started doing algebra, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sudden uncanny resemblance.

After a few moments of silence, Bucky shook his head as though he had given up on trying to figure out how Steve could prove to him that Bucky was alive. The silence stretched further until Steve spoke, feeling the need to fill the quiet with conversation. Maybe if he just kept speaking to him, Bucky would realise he wouldn’t be able to have these conversations if he were dead. The doctor had warned Steve it wouldn’t be that easy, but he could still hope.

“Have you been taking your medication?” It had been a real struggle to get Bucky to take the medication at first. He had had negative experiences with pills during those seventy years, but Steve didn’t know what they were. Bucky never told him, and there was nothing about pills in any of the files they had managed to get a hold of about him. Bucky was also convinced that the pills wouldn't work because the therapist had explained that they help his brain get better, and Bucky thought his brain was as dead as he thought the rest of his body was.

But he was getting better with that, Steve didn’t even have to pester him anymore. Bucky’s phone - courtesy of Stark - would chirp out an alarm to remind him when to take which medication, and Bucky would get up and go take the little pills. He was on antidepressants, antipsychotics, and some mood stabilisers. They were originally for his depression and hallucinations, but the therapist changed the dosage to make it combat those as well as his Cotard’s Syndrome. The only other treatment for what Steve had discovered is also known as  _Walking Corpse Syndrome_  was electroconvulsive therapy. Steve didn’t have to bring this up to Bucky to know that it would definitely be on Bucky’s No Way list. There were a lot of things on that list, and electric shocks to the head was  _definitely_  going to be one of them.

“Yeah… I’m almost out of the mood stabilizers, by the way…”

That was Bucky’s subtle way of asking Steve to go to the pharmacy and get his repeat prescription filled out for more, and he was muttering again, not whispering. Bucky was getting better at asking for things from Steve too, which was good. Just a few months ago, Bucky wouldn’t have dared ask Steve for something.

“I’ll get you some more tomorrow. Is there anything else we need?” Steve asked, making his tone as casually conversational as possible.

Bucky hated talking about his medications and his health conditions, so Steve tried to make them sound as normal as possible in conversations in the hopes that Bucky will relax about it a little more. It was working, kind of.

“You need more of those health shakes you drink.” Bucky reminded him, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. Even after all these years and everything that had happened, Bucky was still keeping track of what Steve needed.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll pick some of those up...” Then, Steve got an idea. “Hey, have you ever tried those things?"

If he could get Bucky to try them, he knew he would like them. Steve always got the fruity health shakes, the ones that tasted of forest fruits or mixed berries. Bucky would love the cherry one, he just knew it. And they were specifically designed to get as much good stuff into the body as possible without the person having to have too much. It was perfect for Bucky. He could only need one or two a day, he wouldn’t feel too full and throw up, and it would help him get healthy again. Steve was almost mad at himself for not thinking of it sooner.

But he was even madder at himself when he saw the flash of panic on Bucky’s face.

“I didn’t drink them, I promise. You only bought enough last time for a week’s worth, and that was eight days ago—“

“Bucky, Bucky. Relax. I’m not accusing you of anything, I knew I would be out by around this time, it’s okay. I was just thinking you might like them, so when I get some more you could try one? They're really good...”

Bucky seemed to relax a little, but there was still a little tension in his muscles, and Steve could see the shadow on Bucky’s jaw jump as he tensed and relaxed his jaw. “But… I don’t need it.”

Anyone who didn't love Bucky may have been frustrated at this point, that he had to repeat the same facts over and over, with little to no progress being made as a result. But not Steve. He would repeat it as much as he needed to. Because Bucky was sick, and he needed help to get better again. It was just like when Steve got a bad case of the flu and was bedridden for days, Bucky would always take care of him until he was healthy again.

Sure, brain damage, psychological trauma, forced faulty condition, and seventy years of dehumanisation wasn’t exactly the same as a few weeks in bed with a fever… But the principle was the same.

“You need to eat something, Bucky. And those things are really nice. I think you’ll love them.” Steve kept putting more emphasis on how good they were and that Bucky might enjoy them in the hopes that Bucky might see eating as more of an enjoyable hobby rather than something he had to do to survive. If he didn’t think he  _needed_  it, maybe he could still  _enjoy_ it. Steve didn’t really need to exercise, but he still did it.

Bucky grunted a little in acknowledgement, then turned on his side to face Steve so their faces were a few inches apart. “You still didn’t prove that I’m alive.”

“You’re breathing… You have a pulse…” Steve explained, then reached out slowly to place a hand on Bucky’s chest over his heart, where he could feel his pulse and his breathing.

“It’s a force of habit.” Bucky muttered, and Steve sort of understood what he meant. People don’t breathe on purpose, it’s just automatic. Bucky thought he was dead but his body didn’t know it yet.

“I’m alive, and we’re talking. We wouldn't be able to talk if you were dead...” Steve tried, but Bucky just shrugged. They had had that particular debate plenty of times, it was always a dead end. No pun intended.

“I’m stuck here…” Bucky muttered, and Steve frowned.

“No, Buck… This is your home. You're free, remember? You were acquitted, we can go wherever you want... You’re not stuck here…”

“No, not this apartment.” Bucky shook his head, then frowned in confusion, as if he was trying to figure out how to articulate what he was thinking in a way that Steve would understand. “This… World. I shouldn’t be here, but I missed the… the way out.”

Steve frowned as he watched Bucky. He didn’t understand what he meant, but Steve knew that he didn’t have to tell him that. If anything, that would just frustrate Bucky more. Steve just stayed quiet when he didn’t understand, then Bucky could decide to elaborate or reword it until Steve could understand and reply. If he told him he didn’t understand, it would bring Bucky’s problems with communication to the forefront of his mind and it would upset him.

“I missed… Heaven. Or Hell… When I fell, I was supposed to die but I kept missing the ledges and stuff, so I kept… Surviving…”

Steve could hear the frustration in Bucky’s voice as he tried to put his thoughts into words, so he stayed silent to let Bucky keep going. Bucky would keep going until his finally cracked what he was trying to say, and when he did, his eyes would light up like he had cracked a code. It was adorable.

“Heaven tried to catch me… But I was falling too fast and… then I hit the floor and I should have found my own way to Heaven but I… couldn’t move… So I missed it.”

That sort of made sense, and Steve could see that they were really getting to the point where Bucky was articulating his thoughts with little trouble, but this time there was no eureka moment where Bucky was so proud of himself for figuring this out. He still looked miserable.

“Then they dragged me away and they wouldn’t let me go look for Heaven so I missed the window so now I have to stay here and no one believes me when I say I’m dead but  _I am_!” Bucky explained in one quick rush before bursting into tears, like his words were racing with his emotions to get out first.

Steve moved the hand from Bucky’s chest to wrap around him, maintaining contact at all times so that Bucky could feel that Steve’s arm was moving around him and so he wouldn’t be startled, then pulled him close to hold him against Steve’s chest. He wanted to reassure Bucky, but there wasn’t anything he could say...

And right then... Steve had one of his few epiphanies, where he truly did understand how Bucky felt and what he was going through, and why it was so upsetting to him when people try to convince him that what he's thinking is wrong. Bucky truly believed that he missed his limited window to get into Heaven, and he was so frustrated that everyone kept saying that he’s not dead when he was so sure that he is. It was like if everyone Steve introduced himself to looked at him funny, then said " _You're not called Steve Rogers"_ and no matter how many times he told people that that was his name, everyone would look at him like he was insane and tell him he was wrong about something he wholeheartedly believed was true. Something he could feel and  _see_ as true.

No wonder Bucky was so frustrated.

“We’ll figure this out, Buck… I promise. One day, everything will make sense… But first, can you answer one thing for me, pal?”

Bucky mumbled something, then nodded against Steve’s chest.

“When you were…” Steve had to force himself to say the next part after swallowing thickly. “Falling… Could you see Heaven trying to get you, or is this in hindsight?”

“Hindsight… Until I hit the floor, then I knew I was dead and I could  _feel_  that I needed to find my way to Heaven… Didn’t see anything… Just felt…”

 _‘Until I hit the floor’_. Steve had done his research of Cotard (of course he had, he wanted to know everything in the hopes that if he understood what was happening in Bucky’s head, he could help him with it). Doctors don’t know exactly what causes it, but it had said something about damage to the temporal lobe or the frontal lobe of the brain. That’s what might have happened when Bucky fell. The impact damaged one of those parts of his brain, and that triggered the Cotard's Syndrome.

Maybe seeing a medical doctor would help. They could scan Bucky’s brain, then prescribe some better medication for him than just a higher dose of what he had been on before his diagnosis. It would be a challenge getting Bucky to see the doctor and stay calm long enough for a brain scan, but it would be worth it if it meant there was more of a chance of Bucky being able to get better. And Steve would be with him the entire time to assure him that he was safe and he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt Bucky.

“Buck… I’m going to talk to your therapist tomorrow about making you a different kind of appointment… One that might help a lot more than what we’ve been doing so far.”

Bucky just nodded against Steve’s chest, his breathing now slower and his body more lax. He was about to fall asleep, and Steve smiled a little as he leant over to turn the lamps off, plunging the room into darkness.

“I love you…” He whispered, like he did every night.

“I love you too.” Bucky replied, as he usually did if he were still awake when Steve said it.

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s hair and closed his eyes, wishing that he could just keep kissing Bucky’s head and fix all of the problems inside it with his love alone. But that wasn’t possible. So Steve started making a mental plan of action.

_1) Get Bucky’s therapist to book him in for a scan of his brain_

_2) Convince Bucky that the machine wouldn’t hurt him, then convince him to allow the scan to happen_

_3) Persuade Bucky to try some tasty food, then convince him that he could just eat as ‘something to do’ even if he didn’t need to eat to survive_

_4)  Get him medication tailor made for his disorder that only a medical doctor can prescribe_

_Either_

_5) Admit to Bucky that he loved him as more than just a friend and kiss him on the lips_

_Or_

_6) Stop kissing and cuddling up to Bucky._

Steve really hoped he could pluck up the courage to pick five, and he was dreading the possibility of six.

But, one step at a time.

First, he needed to get Bucky an appointment for a brain scan.


	2. PET scan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets a PET scan

It took three days for Bucky to be booked in for a brain scan, and Bucky still didn’t even know about it. Steve had held off telling him for as long as possible to avoid to chance of him freaking out, but when he got a call from Bucky’s therapist with the time and date of Bucky’s appointment, Steve didn’t have any other choice but to tell him about it.

Unfortunately, from the day of the call to the day of the appointment, Bucky had been in one of his particularly down moods. These mood could last between an hour and a week, so Steve wasn’t particularly concerned when, after three days, Bucky was still outwardly depressed. All Bucky did during these periods was curl up in their bed and stare at the wall. It was even more of a struggle to get him to eat than usual, and he rarely even moved. Because of this, Bucky had also started wetting himself. But Steve didn’t mind so much. After all of the things Bucky had been through, Steve couldn’t comprehend the idea of being annoyed or grossed out by that sort of thing. He hadn’t expected it, but the first time it happened Steve found himself surprisingly accepting, like he _had_ expected it. Bucky had been embarrassed to the point where he was crying and trying to clean up the wet patch in the bed up himself before Steve could wake up. But Steve did wake up, and he calmly pulled Bucky into a hug as he assured him it was okay, then cleaned him up in the shower before changing the sheets of their bed as well as Bucky’s pyjama bottoms. Bucky had been nervous about getting back into bed once Steve had changed the sheets to freshly washed ones, but Steve eventually persuaded him to get back into bed. It had happened several times since then, and the most disturbing part was that it sometimes took Bucky hours to realise he had wet himself. He would sit in his own urine for hours until Steve realised and moved into action, and even then it would take him between a few minutes up to another hour to properly comprehend what had happened.

If Steve was lucky, he was able to clean up the mess before Bucky realised what had happened. That way, Bucky was pretty docile as Steve got him to step into the shower, and then step into the new trousers. If he was unlucky, Bucky would realise why Steve was changing the sheets and balling Bucky’s pyjama bottoms into the washing machine before Steve could reassure him it was okay. In that case, Bucky would start crying and curl up into a ball, apologising profusely to Steve for what he had done. He would refuse to get into the shower to get clean and claim he deserved to wallow in his own mess. That was more painful for Steve than seeing Bucky wet himself.

The day before Bucky’s appointment, Steve decided he had to tell Bucky what was going to happen the next day. Bucky had gone the whole day without an ‘accident’, so Steve figured that this was a good time to bring it up.

“Buck…?”

“Hmm?”

Bucky was curled up in Steve’s arms at this point, and Steve almost considered abandoning his train of thought so that he could focus on just enjoying the feeling of Bucky in his arms, so calm and relaxed.

“You know how you keep saying that you’re dead…?” Steve was a little apprehensive about bringing it up. He didn’t want to ruin one of Bucky’s rare moments of serenity.

Bucky didn’t speak in return, but he did nod where his face was pressed against Steve’s chest.

“I thought maybe it would help if we could take a look at your brain activity… To see why you think like that…”

Usually, Bucky would argue that he didn’t need a scan to see why he thought that way, because what he thought was the truth. But instead, Bucky just nodded again, then pulled back a little to look up at Steve’s face.

“Brain scan…?”

Steve figured that _‘brain scans’_ wouldn’t mean anything good for Bucky when he was being used as HYDRA’s or the Soviet’s weapon, and he could hear the worry in Bucky’s voice as he spoke.

“Yeah… All you have to do is lay on a medical bed and a machine will… Kind of… Take a picture of your brain activity. It won’t hurt, and it won’t change how you think or effect your memories, I promise.”

Bucky seemed to relax slightly against Steve as he finished his explanation, but he remained silent for a few moments. The silence became almost suffocating. Steve didn’t know what to say next. He was afraid that the more he spoke, the more he might risk saying things that’ll make Bucky afraid to get the scan.

“It won’t hurt…?” Bucky whispered, and Steve nodded before pressing a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head.

“No. I promise, it won’t hurt. You know I’d never let anyone hurt you, right?” Steve asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer. He couldn’t think of a single thing he had done that may have hurt Bucky, but that didn’t stop his anxiety from flaring up. Steve couldn’t help but go through every action he had done in the past few months since Bucky had been with him to see if there was anything he might have done to hurt him.

Before he could delve too far into his own actions and words, Bucky shook his head to confirm that he hadn’t done anything to hurt him. Steve’s mind was able to relax then, and he smiled slightly as he pressed another kiss to Bucky’s long hair. It was starting to get greasy, since it had been two days since he had showered or bathed, but it didn’t matter to Steve. He was still getting used to the idea of Bucky having such long hair, but he had to admit, he liked the length. It gave Steve something to play with while he was comforting Bucky after one of his nightmares or many upsetting flashbacks.

“I just have to lie down…?”

Steve nodded with a smile. “That’s it, I promise. You just have to lie there, the machine will do all the work and it’ll be completely painless.”

Steve could practically feel Bucky relax against him, and it was such a comforting feeling. It meant that Steve’s words were enough to calm Bucky and get him to agree to do things that are best for him.

“You think it’ll help?” Bucky’s voice had dropped to a whisper down, and Steve nodded again.

“If they can see what’s abnormal in your brain, they can fix it…”

“And I’ll be normal again…?”

Steve could barely hear him at this point, but he was paying such close attention to Bucky that there was no way he could miss it.

“You’ll be better… You’ll be happier. I promise.” Steve assured him, and barely half an hour later, Bucky had slipped into a moderately peaceful sleep.

* * *

As agreeable as Bucky had been that day, Steve still had to hold his hand tight as he led him into the hospital. He didn’t mind though, and honestly he wasn’t sure if it was more for Bucky’s comfort or his own. It really didn’t help that the doctor announced that they would also be looking for a brain tumour that could be pressing down of Bucky’s brain and causing errored thinking, because Steve mentioned that Bucky occasionally suffered hallucinations as well as the delusions.

Steve knew Bucky would have to be alone in the room while the scan was happening, and he had explained this to Bucky so that he wouldn’t be caught off guard when Steve was asked to leave the room. The brunet had assured him that he would be okay, but Steve wasn’t sure he would be able to leave him alone. They had a quick consultation with a doctor who explained to Bucky, step-by-step, what would happen. Bucky nodded along and assured the doctor that he understood, but Steve was still on edge. He was worried that Bucky might agree with everything in theory, but in practice Bucky might panic.

Because Bucky’s arm was metal, the doctor had asked if it could be removed, but Bucky didn’t even have to speak. All he did was pull the collar of his top aside to show him the scars on his shoulder where the metal was fused to his skin, and the doctor went quiet. He eventually got some kind of special bandaging that would stop the metal damaging the machine, and the machine from damaging the mechanics of Bucky’s arm. Steve wrapped Bucky’s arm in the bandages, since Bucky was still uncomfortable with anyone besides Steve touching it.

The doctor led Bucky to the room he needed to be in after Bucky had changed into one of those bland hospital gowns, and Bucky clung to Steve’s hand the whole way there. The doctor then allowed Bucky and Steve a few minutes alone in the room, and Steve helped Bucky sit on the high plastic bed that Bucky would have to lie on. Bucky practically begged Steve to reassure him yet again that it wouldn’t hurt, and Steve happily complied.

“It won’t hurt, pal… I promise.” He stepped closer to him when Bucky tugged at his hand, then hugged him tight when he felt Bucky’s arms wrap around him and Bucky’s head drop to Steve’s shoulder.

Steve had been able to get Bucky to shower before they came and Bucky had allowed Steve to wash his hair for him. There was something about the gesture that was therapeutic for both of them. Bucky didn’t have to move or do anything, he just had to stand there and focus on the comforting feeling of Steve’s fingers massaging the soap into his hair, and Steve could feel useful without having to worry about triggering Bucky or doing something wrong. He could wash hair, he had been doing it for himself for almost his whole life. And it gave him another excuse to play with Bucky’s dark locks.

His hair smelled like strawberries now, and Steve couldn’t stop himself from burying his face in the mess to breathe in the scent. It was a mess because Bucky hated having it brushed, he said it always hurt, so Steve dropped it for now.

That was an argument for another time, when they had nothing more important to debate about. They had been trying aromatherapy recently to help Bucky relax and feel more present, and Bucky had gotten really invested in good smells. They had had five different types of shampoo in the last month because Bucky couldn’t decide which smell he liked best. He still didn’t leave the house, so he told Steve what kind of fruit or herb he liked before he went grocery shopping so that Steve could buy things that smelled like those things. Sometimes Bucky liked the smells and stuck with them for a while, but he would usually get bored of that smell by the time Steve next went shopping, so Steve would buy a different one even if there was still plenty in the previous one. They had settled on strawberry this week.

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s head and he felt Bucky relax against him, his legs open either side of Steve’s hips so he could get closer. The blond tried to stop himself, but he couldn’t help but wonder if these kind of little actions from Bucky meant that he felt the same way about Steve as he felt for Bucky. But Bucky had always been an outwardly affectionate person and had rarely even registered physical boundaries unless they were pointed out to him, in which case he would do his best to respect that person’s space if that’s what they wanted. Steve had never wanted that. He had always loved when Bucky touched him, even if it was little stuff like an affectionate punch in the arm or his arm around Steve’s shoulders. He hadn’t known what it meant at the time, but now he did. God, he was so in love with him, and he had no idea what to do about it. He couldn’t risk losing Bucky if he told him and Bucky didn’t feel the same way, then felt uncomfortable about Steve from then on.

He couldn’t tell if the touches he got from Bucky now were the same casual affection Bucky had doled out to everyone so easily in the past, or if it was something more.

But he couldn’t focus on that right now, Steve had more important things to take care of. He had to make sure Bucky was calm. They hugged for several minutes, then Bucky pulled back just enough to look Steve in the eyes. Their faces were still close, their noses just a few inches apart. Neither of them spoke, and Steve briefly worried that Bucky could _feel_ Steve’s heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to kiss him so bad. On the lips this time, not the forehead or cheeks. But Steve would never have the courage for that. He was always described and fearless, but when it came to letting people know how he feels, Steve was terrified.

But it would be worth it, right? If Bucky felt the same way, they could be together. Really, properly together. And Bucky wasn’t moving away, he wasn’t putting any distance between them. Even when he had been physically affectionate, he wasn’t usually this close to anyone he wasn’t going to kiss. Or kill, in more recent years.

Steve had rarely allowed himself to stare into Bucky’s eyes for so long, and definitely not at this proximity. Steve thought he had memorised every detail of Bucky, but now he could see a black circle around his iris, making the grey-blue stand out more. He would have to add that detail to all of his drawings of Bucky, all hidden away in a secret sketchbook that Bucky didn’t know about.

He should kiss him. All he’d have to do was lean forward a little, and if Bucky didn’t feel the same way Steve could say he was aiming for his cheek and missed. Kissing Bucky’s cheek wasn’t so uncommon. Bucky had shaved before they came here, and Steve could smell the peppermint aftershave Bucky seemingly fell in love with. Bucky hadn’t wanted to shave for so long, he didn’t like having a razor so close to his throat, but once Steve bought that aftershave for himself and Bucky smelled it, Bucky insisted on shaving whenever he was in a moderately good mood.

Steve was so close, he started leaning a little closer and Bucky didn’t move back. He didn’t look confused or uncomfortable and he wasn’t trying to get away. Steve noticed that his pupils had dilated a little, and he took that as a good sign.

But before he could go through with it, the doctor returned to the room and Steve quickly pulled back like he had been electrocuted. Bucky remained still, staring at Steve, as the blond nodded at the doctor’s words. He needed to leave the room now so that Bucky could have his scan. Steve could sense the awkward tone in the man’s voice, and he fought really hard not to blush as he thought about what that must have looked like. The doctor must have been able to see that Steve was about to kiss Bucky, and he hoped the man kept that information to himself. He didn’t want to have to deal with the rumours and gossip that would emerge on all the newspapers and news channels.

Steve was then ushered out, and he reluctantly left Bucky alone in the white room, but not without a parting kiss to Bucky’s temple. He was taken to a room in which he could see Bucky’s room as the doctor went in to talk to him. He watched the doctor explain a few things, then help Bucky lie down on the white, plastic bed. He could see Bucky squeeze his eyes closed as the bed moved him inside the machine. His head and chest were obscured by the machine taking pictures of his brain activity, and Steve saw Bucky’s hands clench into fists by his side, his right hand shaking.

It hurt seeing Bucky so clearly afraid but being unable to do anything about it. All he could do was watch and hope Bucky remained still enough that the image would be clear and they wouldn’t have to do it again. Once would be stressful enough for Bucky to go through and for Steve to have to watch. The doctor, a man called Franklin, took a seat beside Steve at the little desk in their room. There was a black screen on the computer monitor, and little flicks of light kept showing up. Franklin explained that that was where the image would show up once the picture was finished, then the room went silent. The scan would take half an hour, and Steve planned to keep his eyes trained on Bucky the whole time. He had stopped shaking after ten minutes, but he still looked tense.

“May I ask again what your relationship is with Mr Barnes?” The doctor then asked, looking down at Bucky’s chart in his hand.

Steve’s official relationship to Bucky was on that chart, so Steve knew he wasn’t just asking because there was a gap in the information. He remembered filling it out, he remembered staring at the blank space beside _‘relationship to patient’_ in contemplation, trying to decide how he could possibly sum everything up into the one line provided.

“Friend. Roommate. Legal carer,” Steve recited what he had written on that line.

He could see the doctor out of the corner of his eye and he could tell that he wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but he didn’t push it. Franklin knew there was more to it than that.

_Oh, if only you knew just how much more it really was._

* * *

The half hour was over, and as soon as the machine was turned off and Steve was told he could, he ran back to the room just in time for the plastic bed to move Bucky out of the machine. Bucky immediately sat up, and barely a second later, Steve’s arms were around him and Bucky was clinging to him. He had been still, but as soon as he was safe in Steve’s arms, he started shaking violently. Steve stroked his hair and whispered words of comfort to him, just loud enough for Bucky to hear and no one else. The words weren’t meant for anyone else, just Bucky.

He kept his arm around Bucky as they were led back to where Bucky had changed, and Steve helped him out of the gown and back into his jeans. Steve moved his hand to Bucky’s metal shoulder to start to undo the special bandages, but Bucky shook his head quickly then quietly asked Steve to leave it on. Steve agreed, then helped him get his tshirt and jacket on. He got Bucky to sit down so that Steve could put his socks and shoes on, then tie his laces for him.

He glanced up at Bucky a few times as he did and saw Bucky staring at him, unblinking. But it wasn’t the vacant stare that Steve had seen far too often since he got Bucky back. It was focussed, a slight crease on his forehead showing his deep concentration. Steve didn’t ask him about it, though, worried that it would lead to a discussion about what had happened before Steve had to leave the room. Instead, he focussed on finishing dressing Bucky.

Once he was done, he took Bucky’s hand to help him stand, not that Bucky needed it, then held onto the hand as he led him to where the doctor was waiting. He explained that they had to get a specialist to look at the image and it may take a few days before they would know the results. He promised to call Steve as soon as he had the answers since they had told him Bucky didn’t have a cell phone so Bucky wouldn't have to talk to anyone on it, and Steve thanked him on Bucky’s behalf before leading the man out of his hospital and to his car.

The car was a second-hand Beetle thing, but it worked well. Steve had got it so he could travel between his apartment and the courthouse quickly. He kept it after that in the hopes that Bucky would start wanting to leave the house more. They couldn’t both go out of Steve’s motorbike easily, and in a car Bucky may feel safer since it was a closed space, separating them from the rest of the world without closing it out completely. So far, Bucky had only been in the car so that Steve could take him to and from his different appointments, but Steve was hoping that would change eventually and Bucky would want to see more than the route to his therapist’s office and the hospital. But he could wait.

The ride home was quiet, but Steve could feel Bucky staring at him again. And again, he ignored it.

They parked and Steve led the way up to their apartment.

“Are you hungry?” Steve asked casually, and Bucky shook his head. He hadn’t eaten all day, though, so Steve got out a piece of fruit and held it out to Bucky in a silent plea.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but he took the plum from Steve’s hand anyway. Maybe Steve was imagining it, but he thought he could see a little smile on Bucky’s lips before he took a bite of the plum. He wasn’t sure if the smile was directed at him or the fruit – plums were Bucky’s favourite this month – but Steve hoped it was for him.

Steve ate an apple, and they both finished their food at around the same time. Steve got rid of what wasn’t eaten, then leant against the counter opposite where Bucky was sat at the island.

“You did really good today, Buck. I’m really proud of you.” Steve smiled, and this time he was sure he saw a little smile tug at Bucky’s lips in return. “How do you feel?”

Bucky shrugged, his eyes locked with Steve’s. Bucky usually avoided eye contact as much as possible, so it was a little unnerving how much he wanted to hold it now. But Steve didn’t particularly mind after he got over the initial surprise. He looked into Bucky’s eyes in return, and Bucky didn’t look away like he usually would.

“What was going to happen?” Bucky asked quietly. He was back to whispering now, and Steve tried not to look disappointed at the little setback. Whispering meant that Bucky was uncomfortable, and barely a second after he spoke, he broke eye contact and stared down at the counter top in front of him.

“With the scan?” Steve asked, a little confused, but Bucky shook his head.

“Before that… You leant forward. Then the doctor came in and you backed off.” Bucky whispered, still staring at the counter like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

This was his chance. He could tell Bucky what he was going to do, how he feels, and it won’t be so out of the blue. He would just be answering Bucky’s question. Then Bucky could say whether or not he would want that, and if not they could just forget about it. And if so… Steve would be able to kiss him without too much fear of rejection.

But if he didn’t want that, Steve would never know how Bucky’s lips felt against his own. Even if Bucky didn’t feel the same way, if Steve just kissed him, at least he would know what it felt like. Although Steve supposed he wouldn’t be able to reminisce about the feeling and enjoy it if it was immediately followed by Bucky’s rejection. The pain would poison the perfect feeling of Bucky’s lips against his own.

“I wanted to…” Steve started as he made his decision, then stopped to try and think of the right words. “I wanted to kiss you.”

Honest and to-the-point. That was Steve’s best plan of action. He kept his eyes down, so that he wouldn’t have to see Bucky’s expression change. But then he started imagining the disgust and anger Bucky’s face could show and the thought scared Steve too much. He had to see if it was a reality or just his own paranoia.

Bucky’s face was hard to read. It had changed slightly, but Steve couldn’t tell exactly what Bucky was thinking. That made his anxiety flare up more, and Steve bit his lip as he waited for Bucky to openly react.

“Why do you seem nervous?” Bucky asked. “You always kiss me…”

Steve could hear the confusion in Bucky’s voice, and he had to try really hard not to laugh. Bucky would think he was laughing at him, making fun of him, and that would efficiently ruin the mood. It was just that Bucky was so adorable when he was perplexed over something like this. He was so literal all the time, ‘kiss’ just meant any kind of kiss to him. Which, Steve supposed, was understandable, but it was still cute how Bucky’s mind worked sometimes.

“Yeah, but… I wanted to kiss you properly…” Steve tried to explain, and Bucky looked confused for another few seconds before the penny dropped and he realised what exactly Steve was getting at.

“Like… How couples kiss?” Bucky whispered, and Steve nodded.

They remained silent, and Bucky’s eyes returned to the countertop. But Steve’s eyes couldn’t leave Bucky’s face. He was watching for his reaction now that Bucky understood the situation properly. Again, it was unreadable.

“Why?”

Steve frowned at the question, not sure how to answer.

“I’m not… Real. Not here. Not… Alive…” Bucky’s voice was barely audible for the last words, and Steve was worried that it was because Steve had argued that Bucky _is_ alive so many times that Bucky was worried about saying that sort of stuff around him in case it led to a debate. Steve refused to call it an argument.

He didn’t want Bucky to feel that way. He wanted Bucky to feel like he could tell Steve anything. “You’re sick, Bucky. And I won’t stop caring about you because you’re sick. That won’t change how I feel about you in the slightest.”

Steve avoided using the word _‘love’_ as carefully as possible. He didn’t want to scare Bucky with how intense his feeling for him were.

“So… You _wanted_ to kiss me?”

Steve could hear the stress of _‘wanted’_ , and he wasn’t sure if Bucky meant it as _“You actually wanted to do that?”_ or _“You wanted to, past tense?”_

So he decided to answer in a way that would cover either possibility. “Yes. And I still do.”

They both lapsed back into silence, and Bucky eventually lifted his head a little, just enough so that he could look up through the locks of hair covering his face to meet Steve’s eyes again. The silence kept stretching on a little longer, then Bucky whispered again, so quiet that Steve almost missed it.

“Will you? Please?”

Steve didn’t need to be asked twice. He took a step closer to Bucky, the kitchen island still between them. No, that wouldn’t do. He moved around the island to stand beside Bucky, and Bucky turned on his stool to face Steve, looking up at him from his seat.

A thousand possibilities were rushing through Steve’s head, trying to decide how exactly he wanted their first kiss. Standing up or sitting down? In the kitchen? Living room? Bedroom?

Then he saw Bucky’s eyes glance down at Steve’s lips, and Steve decided it didn’t matter. The setting didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Steve was about to kiss Bucky, and Bucky had _asked_ him to.

Bucky must have thought Steve was waiting for him to stand, because he stood then and his smile almost looked apologetic. Steve smiled back softly. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Before, in the hospital, his arms had been around Bucky meaning he didn’t have to worry about that. So he tried to recreate that as closely as he could. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and Bucky took a half step closer to Steve, so he had to tilted his head back to look up at Steve, and Bucky’s hands rested on Steve’s shoulders.

They just stared at each other for a moment, their eyes darting between the other’s eyes and lips. Eventually, Steve forced his own eyes closed and leant forward to seal his lips over Bucky’s.

Bucky’s lips were dry, but Steve could feel that they were softness. Neither of them moved, and all Steve could think was that he was _actually kissing Bucky._ He had dreamt about this since he knew what kissing was and why people did it. He had fantasied about being in the place of the girls Bucky took on dated and kissed after gliding around the dance hall together. Bucky was the subject of Steve’s first wet dream, and Steve had tried so hard to ignore it, thinking that being gay was wrong. But that was just the time he grew up in. He thought the serum would fix that the same way it had fixed everything else wrong with Steve, all his other sicknesses. But when Peggy told him that he had performed for what was left of the 107 th, and Bucky wasn’t there, when Colonel Phillips told him that the name ‘ _James Barnes’_ sounded familiar after he had spent the day signing condolence letters to be sent to the families of soldiers who were either K.I.A or M.I.A, and as soon as he saw Bucky on the table, _alive_ , he knew. He was still in love with him, that hadn’t changed. And if the serum didn’t fix that, then maybe there was nothing wrong with it. Steve didn’t have the courage to tell anyone that back then, especially not Bucky, for fear that his best friend would think Steve was disgusting and sick and hate him.

Now though, he knew that wouldn’t have happened. Bucky may not have admitted to feeling the same way back then, but at the least he wouldn’t have hated Steve and cut him out of his life.

After what felt like an eternity, Steve broke the kiss and opened his eyes, but he didn’t move away from Bucky any more than a few inches. The same distance that had been between them in the hospital. Bucky’s eyes were open before Steve’s, and Steve wondered if they had been open the entire time.

“So…?” Steve prompted quietly, wanting to know what Bucky thought about the kiss.

Bucky shrugged, his eyes locked with Steve’s again. “A little boring. I expected a little more passion, Rogers.”

Steve could tell he was teasing, and Steve couldn’t help but grin in response, causing Bucky to smile back at him. “Oh? You want something more passionate?”

Bucky nodded a little, then Steve surged forward again and kissed Bucky with all the emotion he had kept back the last time. He tightened his arms around Bucky’s waste to pull him closer, to press their bodies together, and Steve heard and felt Bucky’s breath hitch in surprise at the sudden kiss, but he didn’t try to push Steve away. If anything, he tried to pull Steve closer, his arms tightening around Steve’s shoulders. One of his hands moved to the back of Steve’s head and Steve knew it was his right hand. The metal hand rested on Steve’s shoulder blade, and Steve rested one of his hands on the small of Bucky’s back.

Feeling Bucky grip him tighter gave Steve the confidence he needed to run his tongue along the seam of Bucky’s lips. Bucky’s breath hitched again and he parted his lips a little to give Steve access to his mouth, which he happily seized. He licked into Bucky’s mouth with a quiet groan, his tongue coaxing Bucky’s into moving with it, which it did though a little more hesitant than Steve’s. That was a little strange. Steve had always imagined he would be the most nervous and Bucky would be the confident one taking the lead. But that had been before everything Bucky had gone through to break down and destroy Bucky’s confidence.

Steve quickly pushed that thought out of his head and readily took up the title of the lead here. He didn’t want to think about what Bucky had been through, he just wanted to focus on the pleasure of the moment. Bucky’s muscles all slowly unwound against Steve, and Steve couldn’t help but smile a little at how relaxed Bucky was. He was practically melting into the kiss, and Steve happily followed suit.

Steve eventually had to break the kiss so that they could both breathe properly, and he felt a surge of pride in his chest when he saw Bucky’s face. There was a blush on his cheeks, though Steve was sure his own face had the same splash of colour, Bucky’s eyes were half lidded, pupils blown large, and he looked dazed. Bucky’s expression was usually either vacant or calculating, or somewhere between those two. It was nice to see him present but not worrying or calculating or thinking too much, just _feeling_.

Steve smiled, and Bucky smiled a dopey little smile back. God, he was beautiful, and Steve couldn’t help but run his fingers through Bucky’s hair to push it back from his face. His hair was so soft from the conditioner Bucky loved so much, and Steve couldn’t stop touching it. They just kept staring at each other, neither of them ready to be the first to speak.

“God, you’re so beautiful…” Steve eventually muttered, and smiled wider when he saw the blush that had faded by now come back in full force on Bucky’s cheeks.

Bucky broke eye contact and looked down quickly, but Steve could see the smile on his face before his hair fell over to cover it. Bucky had a habit of hiding behind his hair. Sometimes it was heartbreaking, like when Steve was cleaning up something Bucky had accidentally broken and Bucky expected to be punished. Steve never punished him, but no matter how many times he said he never will, Bucky was still always worried it would happen one day, that one day he’d accidentally break something important and Steve will snap and hurt him. Steve never would. Bucky could break Steve’s spine, and Steve still wouldn’t be able to bring himself to be mad at him enough that he would want to hurt him.

Other times, though, it was adorable. Whenever Steve was being particularly affectionate and whispered words of praise to him, Bucky would avoid eye contact and hide his smile behind long, dark hair.

That was Steve’s favourite kind of day, when he could make Bucky smile so wide with just a few words.

* * *

They didn’t have to discuss what they were after that, whether they were a couple. It didn’t matter. Bucky gave Steve permission to kiss him whenever he wanted to, and Steve was over the moon.

For the next three days, Steve kissed Bucky whenever he could. When Bucky woke up from a nightmare, Steve would calm him with words, then kiss him back into relaxation. Steve would shower with Bucky and kiss him when he was done washing his hair. He could kiss him after Bucky agreed to eat something, and that seemed to act as an incentive for Bucky to eat more often, because that meant he got more kisses. Bucky still thought he was dead, but he brought it up less and he ate a little more often.

Steve had done his research, and he understood that Cotard sometimes worked in episodes. Bucky would be convinced he was dead at one point, then at another time not sure, and at another time he would be sure he was alive. It didn’t happen in that order, and Steve was yet to experience Bucky being sure he was alive, but hopefully it would happen regularly when Bucky had medication to manage it.

He kissed Bucky when they were watching TV, and then the TV would be forgotten as they became more interested in exploring each other’s mouths.

But Bucky didn’t want kisses all the time. Though he had given Steve permission to kiss him whenever he wanted to, that didn’t mean that Bucky always wanted to be kissed. After particularly bad nightmares, Bucky would curl in and dodge Steve’s lips when he tried to kiss him. That was okay with Steve, and he just wrapped his arms around him and rested his head on top of Bucky’s, holding him close and whispering words of comfort.

Other times, Bucky would tell him he was too rotten to be kissed. Steve hadn’t understood what he meant be ‘rotten’ at first, and he would try to convince him that he wasn’t, but Bucky had caught a few minutes of _The Walking Dead_ one day before Steve could turn over, so then Bucky had a way of describing how he felt based on what one of the characters had said about the zombies.

Sometimes when he said ‘rotten’ Bucky meant bad. He was too evil to be kissed, not human enough to be kissed. Other times, he meant that he was too dead and he was putrefying. Steve tried to convince him that he couldn’t be, because Bucky still smelled like peppermint and strawberries, but Bucky just shook his head and muttered something Steve couldn’t catch.

And sometimes, it felt wrong to kiss Bucky. Steve never thought that would be possible, but it really, _really_ was.

The first time he had experienced that was the day after they had kissed for the first time. By that evening, they had kissed a lot, but then Bucky had dissociated pretty hard while Steve was talking to Tony on the phone in the other room about some Avengers business Steve couldn’t even remember anymore. Bucky was sat cross-legged on the couch staring at the wall above the TV with wide, blank eyes and a slack facial expression. Steve thought that maybe he could kiss Bucky back to him, back to reality.

He crouched down in front of Bucky and watched him for a minute with his hands on Bucky’s knees, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the very occasional blinking of his eyes. He then leant forward and pressed his lips to Bucky’s. Even though he had seen Bucky breathing, Steve could hardly feel it. Bucky’s lips remained slack and unmoving, and Steve pulled back after only a second. It felt wrong, like he was doing it without Bucky’s consent, like he was using him. Bucky wasn’t present in his own body, so Steve _was_ doing this against Bucky’s consent. Bucky couldn’t tell him he didn’t want to kiss him or push Steve away when he was like this. Steve felt terrible, so he moved to sit next to Bucky and wait for him to come back. He then explained to Bucky what he did and how terrible he felt. Bucky assured him it was okay, but Steve still never did it again unless he knew that Bucky was present.

* * *

Day three was a good day for Bucky. He woke up with a smile and kissed Steve softly, then followed him out of bed to the kitchen. He managed to eat a few strawberries dipped in cream and allowed Steve to lick some cream from the corner of his mouth, with made Bucky laugh quietly.

They watched a bit of TV, but Bucky quickly got bored and asked Steve to read to him instead. Bucky had struggled with reading since he got back, and he couldn’t handle more than a page an hour, which frustrated Bucky. So Steve read to him instead. They had been reading The _Lord of the Rings_ series recently, and Bucky was loving it.

If it wasn’t a particularly good day, Bucky would curl up at one end of the couch and Steve would sit the other side as he read. But because today was a good day, Steve propped his head up on the arm of the couch and laid out along it with Bucky curled up practically on top of him with his head tucked under Steve’s chin, face turned so that he could look at the page as Steve read.

They got through about thirty pages before Steve’s phone interrupted his explanation of the scenery the Hobbits found themselves in. Bucky glared at the thing in annoyance, and Steve ruffled his hair lightly before picking it up off the coffee table. He saw the doctor’s number on the screen and immediately felt nervous. He remembered what the doctor had said about looking for brain tumours as well as or instead of diagnosing the Cotard Syndrome. Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s head and handed him the book to hold as he answered the phone with one hand and played with Bucky’s hair with the other hand. Bucky looked up at him, but he didn’t say anything as he waited for Steve to finish on the phone.

“ _Hello Captain Rogers, we have Mr Barnes’ PET scan results back. When are you free to come in with him so we can discuss what we found?”_

Franklin sounded relaxed, but the phrase ‘ _what we found’_ put Steve a little on edge. Steve also noticed that Franklin called him Captain, but he didn’t call Bucky Sergeant. But that was something to bring up at a later date.

“We’re free to come in as soon as you can see us.” Steve answered and pressed another kiss to Bucky’s head to try and keep himself from panicking.

“ _How about in an hour? Can you get here that soon?”_

Steve assured him that they would be there, then hung up with a sigh. “Your results are in. We need to be at the hospital in an hour so they can tell us everything.”

Bucky nodded, like he expected that, which Steve supposed he had. He probably could have heard everything the doctor said, the phone was only a few inches away from him where it was pressed to Steve’s ear.

They read a few more pages of the book, but Bucky must have sensed that Steve wasn’t really paying attention and he was afraid, because he took the book back from Steve’s hand and put the bookmark in before placing it on the coffee table, then cupped Steve’s face to kiss him.

Steve kissed back, and after a few moments, he found himself relaxing under Bucky.

They made it to the hospital fifteen minutes early, but Franklin just gestured them into his office early. He shook Steve’s hand, but not Bucky’s. Steve hadn’t noticed it before, but Franklin only touched Bucky to move him where Franklin wanted him.

Steve tried very hard not to be mad at him for that. Maybe Bucky preferred it that way and asked Franklin not to touch him more than he needed to. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind to deal with later so that he could focus on the results.

First of all, Franklin assured them that there was no tumour, and Steve almost cried in relief. He managed to keep himself under control though, and smiled as he squeezed Bucky’s hand in his.

Then Franklin told them that it was indeed Cotard Syndrome. He took out the scan of Bucky’s brain, and Steve and Bucky both leant forward to see it. Steve was struck by just how strange this was, looking at a picture of the _activity_ of Bucky’s brain taken through his skin and skull, completely harmlessly. He glanced over at Bucky as saw the interest and amazement on his face, showing that he was thinking the same thing.

Franklin remained silent as Steve and Bucky stared at the picture like he was anticipating the amazement and he was waiting until they both got their curiosity out of the way so that they could dedicate their attention wholly on what the doctor said. Eventually, Bucky and Steve both looked and the doctor and Franklin started speaking.

He pointed to some parts of the image with a little stick to indicate which parts he was talking about. He started talking about cortical metabolism levels and explained that a healthy brain had a high level of cortical metabolism, but Bucky’s – and others with Cotard Syndrome’s – levels were very low. Franklin then started talking about ‘brain dead patients’, who had little to no brain activity, and said that the scan of Bucky’s brain looked like it belong to one of those patients.

Franklin took out two other scans, one that was much brighter and busier than Bucky’s, and one that looked almost identical, just with a different name at the top and slightly less light than Bucky’s scan. The first one was a healthy brain, and Steve saw Bucky’s face fall when he saw it. The difference was almost scary, and Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand a little more in the hopes of comforting him. The other one was of a patient who had been brain dead for a year. They didn’t move, there was a lot of evidence suggesting they didn’t even think or dream, the only activity in their brain was just to keep their organs going and even then it wasn’t working. This patient was on a whole army of life support machines. That brain, the one that couldn’t even keep the body alive without the help of several man-made machines, looked just like Bucky’s, who was walking and talking and _thinking_.

Steve couldn’t quite wrap his head around it, and Franklin seemed to notice because he explained that not even doctors knew the exact details of how this is possible. He mentioned that it could be caused by brain damage, and Steve was surprise to hear Bucky huff out a laugh at that.

“Yeah, I got plenty of that.” Bucky muttered bitterly, and Steve had to fight the urge to pull him into a comforting kiss. They couldn’t do that in public, in case the press found out. Bucky didn’t need that kind of attention right now, and neither did Steve.

The meeting finished with them booking another one to discuss treatments. Franklin had wanted to go through that then and there, but Steve had asked if they could do it next time after a glance at Bucky. He looked miserable, like all he wanted to do was curl up under the covers in bed and disappear. Steve needed to address that as soon as possible. Franklin agreed, then Steve tugged on Bucky’s hand and led him out of the hospital.

“I’m practically brain dead…” Bucky whispered on the drive home, and Steve shook his head.

“No. Your brain activity resembles that of someone who is brain dead, but you’re not.”

Bucky didn’t answer and, as predicted, as soon as they got home he made a beeline to the bedroom, stripped off, then curled up under the sheets. Steve shed his shirt and jeans, then took his shoes and socks off before getting into bed behind Bucky, spooning him. Neither of them spoke.

After half an hour, Steve felt Bucky’s hand on his arm around Bucky’s stomach and smiled a little against Bucky’s hair. Ten minutes after that, Steve felt Bucky shaking with quiet sobs, and Steve’s heart broke. He pressed a kiss to the back of Bucky’s head, then moved one hand up to play with his hair while the other stayed around Bucky’s middle, holding him close.

Bucky eventually cried himself to sleep, and once Steve was sure he was asleep, Steve let himself cry too. He hated how hurt Bucky was, how much all those years had seemingly permanently damaged the love of his life. Steve wanted nothing more than to be able to tear apart every single person who ever worked on, with, or anywhere near Bucky. But all he could do now was hold on to Bucky, be there for him, and try to help him as much as he could.

Maybe Sam was right, Bucky will never be the same happy-go-lucky, funny, charming kid from Brooklyn that Steve fell in love with. But that didn’t matter. Steve could love this new Bucky as much as the old one, he could love every version of Bucky in any universe, as long as it was Bucky.


End file.
